


The Show Must Go On

by RavenWhitecastle



Series: The Sinner and the Saint [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Guns, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Musical References, anxiety mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/RavenWhitecastle
Summary: Ashley O'Connell is an up and coming star of the stage. Everything seems perfect for her when her number comes up, which means Finch and Reese have their work cut out for them. It's not easy being a theatrical star, but Reese is determined to make it safe for Ashley.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> This "episode" takes place somewhere in the middle of season 2. Kara Stanton has uploaded the virus and it has started to affect the Machine's function.  
> Yes, Finch says hardly a LOT.   
> Please don't judge my misuse of legal practices and architecture.

Reese and Finch were out walking Bear when the call came in. Finch handed the leash over to Reese before picking up the payphone.

Reese had a loose grasp of how the Machine worked. After it had spit out Leon’s number when Reese was looking for his kidnapped partner, he understood the library system. But he still didn’t know how the Machine found the numbers in the first place. On a whim, he asked Finch once he’d hung up.

“Generally,” Finch began, “it monitors conversations and digital correspondence for suspicious activity. But you already know that.”

“I guess I’d like to know why the Machine doesn't tell us what it found suspicious.”

Finch sighed. “There has to be a certain amount of legwork involved, Mr. Reese. Or would you rather the Machine simply dealt with threats by itself?”

Reese paused, and Bear looked up at him. “Can it do that?”

“You’d better hope not, or we’ll both be out of a job.”

~

The number belonged to Ashley O’Connell. Finch’s eyebrows went up when he saw the name.

“I know her!”

“A friend of yours?”

Finch shook his head. “Actually, it would be more accurate to say I’m familiar with her work. She’s an actress. I saw her in The Rabbit Hole, she did wonderfully.”

Reese tilted his head. “I didn’t know you enjoyed theatre.”

Finch looked at him sidelong. “Don’t put too much stock in it, Mr. Reese. It’s almost impossible not to see a show when you live in the musical capital of America.”

“I’ve never been.”

“Well then, this might be your lucky case. Miss O’Connell is the lead in an off Broadway production that opens in two days. If we can’t identify the threat by then, you might actually have to be exposed to some culture.”

“Who says I’m not cultured?”

In reply, Finch simply looked up at him, turning in his chair and pursing his lips.

Shrugging, Reese asked, “Where is Ashley now?"

Finch hit a few keys on his computer until security footage popped up on the screen. “An internet café down on 8th.”

Reese nodded and grabbed his coat. “I’ll go and follow her movements from there.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up on Miss O’Connell’s past.”

Reese looked thoughtfully out the wind as he petted Bear goodbye. It was a rather nice day. The sun peeked through a blanket of clouds, and soft rays fell across the city skyline. Smirking, he thought to himself how nice it was the Machine didn’t do his job for him.


	2. The Curtain Rises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The briefest mention of sexual harassment. Also, I'd like to imagine that Finch was in drama club at one point in his life.

Ashley had all the makings of a theatrical star, physically. Long, dark curls, thoughtful gray eyes, a pale complexion, and legs that didn’t end. She chewed on her full lower lip as she studied the screen of her laptop, set up next to a tall, hot drink.

Reese sipped his coffee and watched her from the other end of the café. “Any idea what she’s looking at?” he asked.

“She’s connected to the café’s wi-fi, I’ll just need a second to hack in.” There was the clacking of his keyboard followed by Finch saying, “I’m in.” There was a pause as he perused Claire’s laptop remotely. “She’s currently browsing apartments for rent.”

“Is she being evicted?”

“Quite the contrary. Looks like she’s upgrading from a tenement in Queens to a penthouse in Manhattan, in the neighborhood where she’s performing.”

“Sounds like she’s recently come into some money.”

“It would have to be quite a bit. These penthouses aren’t cheap.”

“Wonder where all that disposable income came from.”

Reese could almost hear Finch tilt his head. “You think she might be involved in something uncouth?”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Reese took another sip. “What else do we know about our latest number?”

“I did some digging into the cast list, trying to see if the threat could be inside the theatre.”

“Find anything interesting?”

“A few juvenile records, nothing serious. But it looks like the director, Martin Fields, has a rap sheet. Assault and battery against an actor in his cast, Cole Sheldon. Sheldon spent three months in the hospital recovering, but it looks like the charges were dropped before Fields did any time. He may have threatened Sheldon to keep him from talking.”

“I think you should have a word with Mr. Fields.”

“So do I.”

Ashley stood up and was putting her laptop in her bag. Reese downed the rest of his coffee. “Ashley’s on the move. I’ll let you know where she’s headed.”

“Rehearsal, according to her schedule. I’m not sure you’ll be able to get into the theatre without a cover.”

Slipping his coat on, Reese replied, “So find me a cover.”

Finch let out an aggravated sigh. “You know, what I do is no so easy as a snap of your fingers,” he complained.

Reese smirked. “And I don’t take anything you do for granted.”

Finch scoffed. “Could have fooled me,” he muttered.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

~

Finch had managed to come up with a clean alias Reese could use to get into the theatre. He would be posing as a stagehand behind the scenes where Ashley wouldn’t spot him, but he could clearly see her.

Reese changed in the lobby restroom, swapping out his suit for all black clothes and a pair of fingerless gloves. “Used for gripping the rigging of the fly system,” Finch had told him. Reese had nodded like he understood, but he didn’t know the first thing about the stage. Thankfully, Finch said he didn’t really need to do anything, just stand quietly in the dark. “Something I imagine you’re very adept at,” Finch had added.

Reese lost Ashley when she went into the dressing room, but he’d managed to pair with her phone. “I can’t see her. Any idea what she’s doing?”

“Her make-up, I would imagine,” Finch replied, “Today is final dress.”

“Final what?”

“Dress. Rehearsal.” He was met with silence. “The last rehearsal before the show opens.”

“I understand those words separately.”

Reese could imagine Finch rolling his eyes. “Never mind. She’s not saying anything of interest, anyway.”

“How do you know so much about theatre, Finch?”

There was a pause. “I’m a purveyor of the arts, Mr. Reese. It comes with the territory.”

“Not in so much detail. You’re not talking about performance, you’re talking about the inner workings of the theatre. Like you’ve been there.” Reese tried to suppress a smile as he asked, “You were a theatre nerd, weren’t you Finch?”

He was met with an awkward silence, and his smile widened. Finally, Finch replied, “I may have… dabbled.”

“Sounds like you did more than dabble.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Finch muttered bitterly.

“Maybe another time. Ashley just came out of the dressing room.”

“Keep eyes on her. There’s nothing to suggest she’s involved in anything, which means-”

“The threat could come from anywhere,” Reese finished for him.

~

Reese lurked quietly as the director gave notes and the actors did warm-ups. He raised a brow at the ridiculous tongue twisters they did, until he was distracted by a ladder next to the ropes that disappeared somewhere above the curtains.

“Where does that ladder go, Finch?”

Finch hesitated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be coy. I know you know.”

Finch sighed before answering, “The catwalk. It’s a walkway above the stage. Some theatres use it to hang scenery and lighting, which the fly system- those ropes- is connected to.”

There was clapping on stage. Reese looked to see everyone going their separate ways as the lights went down. He assumed they were about to start.

The play was interesting enough- a musical about an orphanage in the 1920s. (When the music had started, Reese had murmured to Finch, “Is there going to be a lot of this?” to which Finch had simply replied with an amused chuckle.) Ashley was playing the part of Julia, a mostly mute girl who was in love with the headmaster’s assistant, Laurence. But when she spotted Laurence dancing with Penny, the high society benefactor, she sat down and started to cry. Reese conceded that she was rather talented, but he was rooted to the spot when she started to sing.

_“Tell me where summer’s gone,_

_The leaves are falling from the trees._

_Tell me where summer’s gone,_

_There is ice upon the breeze.”_

The melody was haunting, and Ashley carried it beautifully. In spite of himself, Reese stepped closer to hear her better from his place in the wings.

_“Tell me where autumn’s gone,_

_The trees are gray and bare._

_Tell me where autumn’s gone,_

_There is winter in the air.”_

Behind her, scenery was shifting through the seasons as she sang. Reese turned to see one of the stagehands operating the fly system, sending trees in and out of view.

_“Tell me where winter’s gone,_

_I see the melting snow._

_Tell me where winter’s gone,_

_Blades of grass begin to grow.”_

Reese watched, spellbound, as Julia stood and gathered the ragged petticoats of her dress. She looked offstage, towards where Laurence had exited, but Reese could have sworn she was looking at him.

_“Tell me where spring has gone,_

_The cherry blossoms disappear._

_Tell me where spring has gone,_

_Has it really been another year?_

_Has it really been a year?”_

The music faded, the lights dimmed, and Ashley hurried off, presumably for a costume change, and Reese shook himself out of his reverie. Just as the music started up again, Reese’s phone buzzed. Looking to assure he wasn’t followed, he ducked out into the hallway.

Tapping his earpiece, he greeted, “What did you find, Finch?”

“Nothing of interest at her apartment. A couple of anxiety medications, photos of family. But when I returned, the computer had pulled a restraining order against one Phillip Adams.”

“Ex-boyfriend?” Reese guessed.

“Hardly. Adams is a tabloid reporter. There’s a few of his early articles that follow some big stars, but it seems once he discovered Miss O’Connell, he became fixated on her. All of his articles revolved around her work, relationships- prying into her personal life.”

“Ashley has a stalker?”

“Had, presumably. She filed a restraining order after a case of sexual harassment.”

“You think Adams might still be obsessed?”

“I know he is. He’s still writing articles about her, and it looks like he runs a fanblog.”

“Sounds like a real winner. I’ll keep my eyes out for him. Any idea how long this rehearsal’s going to take?”

Finch chuckled. “Get comfortable, Mr. Reese. They’ll likely go over notes after they get out of costume.”

Reese sighed. “I can see why you didn’t do more than dabble. This process seems extremely tedious.”

“Now, now, Mr. Reese. Respect the art. Even you can’t tell me you weren’t moved by Miss O’Connell’s performance.”

“All right, you win. But speaking of, I’d better get back behind the scenes.”

“Could it be you’re actually enjoying yourself?”

Reese could hear the smirk behind Finch’s voice. Rolling his eyes, Reese replied, “Actually, I have to do my job. If your theory is wrong and Adams isn’t the threat, then it might come from one of her castmates.”

Finch gasped softly. “A classic case of the jealous understudy.”

“Jealous what?”

“Never mind. Keep your guard up, Mr. Reese, and try to enjoy yourself.”


	3. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paparazzi harassment, unwanted advances. Canon typical violence.

For the rest of the show, Reese cased the theatre building, while Finch dug through the history of the cast. Misty Pattinson, who played Penny, was the daughter of Broadway actors with a bright future. Kyle Johnson had been cast as Laurence and played a very convincing straight man. The headmaster, Peter Richards, was played by Carl Weathers, who had spent time in the military.

Finch found nothing interesting aside from the director’s assault charges. Meanwhile, Reese navigated the theatre’s long halls and many rooms. The main building was nothing more than a stage, seating, a lobby, and a bar, but beyond that were expansions housing dance studios and music rooms with pianos inside. Out of habit, Reese made a mental note of which hallways led to exits they could use as escape routes.

Upon returning, Reese saw Ashley chatting with another girl, not in costume. They shared a strong resemblance. In fact, they were close to identical- same hair, same stature and build. It would be easy to mistake them for twins.

Reese discreetly snapped a photo with his phone and sent it to Finch. “Ashley’s got company,” he said, “Looks like she could be family.”

“Oh, that’s the understudy, Stacy Campbell. No relation.”

There was that word again- understudy. “What did you call her?”

“Understudy. If Miss O’Connell is unable to perform for any reason, Miss Campbell will act in her place. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, ‘The show must go on.’”

"What would keep Ashley from performing?”

“Not very much. Nothing short of losing her voice or physical injury. I briefly wondered if the understudy was the threat- she may be upset about being so close to stardom, she’d do anything to go on in Miss O’Connell’s stead.”

Reese peered around the corner again. Stacy and Ashley were embracing farewell, both smiling widely. “There’s no bad blood here, Finch,” he murmured, “They might be actors, but they genuinely care about each other.”

“Then you’d better keep an eye on them, Mr. Reese,” Finch warned, “We’re still no closer to discovering the threat, unless it’s Fields. I wouldn’t trust him alone with her if I were you.”

~

After what seemed like an excessively long pep talk from the director, the actors were dismissed. Most of them were still wearing their make-up, some of which Reese personally thought looked ridiculous. Setting his judgements aside, he fell into step behind Ashley, who took a side door out into an alley. Reese slipped out behind her, careful not to hit the door and alert her to his presence.

At the end of the alley, there was a bright flash of white light, and Reese instinctively reached for his gun as he blinked rapidly to clear his vision.

“Say cheese, princess!” someone said. Reese’s eyes adjusted, and he saw a shorter man with an impressive looking camera. He snapped a couple more shots as Ashley raised her arms in an attempt to shield her face.

“Phillip!” she snapped, “Piss off!”

“C’mon, babydoll,” Phillip pleaded. “Smile for the camera!”

Ashley grabbed the camera by the lens and shoved it aside. “I’m not your babydoll. Get out of my face before I call the police on your ass!”

So this was Phillip Adams. In the flesh, and blatantly disregarding his restraining order.

Reese had hung back, observing Phillip’s behavior. When Ashley shoved his camera away, his dopey, starstruck grin had turned sour. “Sweetheart,” he growled in a way that was anything but endearing, “Give me one smile and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I said no, asshole,” she snarled, and she started to walk away, pulling out her phone to call the police.

Enraged, Phillip snarled and grabbed her, allowing his camera to hang freely from his neck, and pinned Ashley to the wall, holding her wrist with one hand and gripping her throat with the other. Ashley’s phone flew from her hand, shattering on the asphalt.

Reese leapt into action, wasting no more time. He launched himself at Phillip, grabbing him by the collar and clocking him across the face. Phillip released Ashley, who screamed. Reese didn’t have time to check on her. Phillip came roaring at him with a mean right hook. Reese only barely dodged it, as well as another flurry of punches Phillip threw as he stumbled forward. Finally, Reese got the upper hand and landed an uppercut that sent Phillip keeling over backwards. Reese knelt over him and pulled him up by his hair. Phillip cried out, and Reese growled, “The lady said no. Now, I can give you a grammar lesson, or you get the hell out of here, got it?”

Lower lip trembling, Phillip nodded frantically, and Reese dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. Phillip groaned in pain, but he managed to scrambled to his feet and flee.

Reese dusted off his jacket and turned to see Ashley still standing there, clinging to the brick wall for dear life and watching him with frightened eyes. “T-thank you,” she managed, “I don’t know what he… what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you all right?”

She peeled herself away from the wall and cleared her throat, swallowing hard. “Y-yeah, I think so.” She adjusted her top before looking at him again. “You’re one of the techies, aren’t you?”

Reese’s brain froze. What the hell was a techie?

He was about to use his “concerned third party” line when Finch’s voice came through. “Yes, John, you’re a techie. They work behind the scenes on theatrical productions. Say yes.”

Reese nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m John.”

Ashley smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before. Thanks, John.”

“Like I said,” he replied with a slight smile, “Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asked. He tilted his head. “For the show. Opening night. We need all hands on deck.”

Things snapped into place. He had a cover to maintain. “Yes, I’ll see you then.”

Ashley smiled at him again before heading down the street, presumably towards home. Reese straightened his collar and started heading in the opposite direction.

He was about to check in and update Finch when a payphone across the street rang. Reese stopped, looking towards it. He hadn’t expected to get a new number so soon, but justice never slept. Sighing, he crossed the street and picked up the received with his forefinger and thumb.

As the automated voices rattled off the worlds, his blood ran cold. It was the same string of words they’d received that morning- Ashley’s number. The Machine was repeating itself.

When the call was over, he hung up and called Finch. His partner answered immediately. “Mr. Reese. I hope your sudden silence doesn’t mean something went wrong in your endeavor.”

“The Machine is getting worse,” Reese replied, “Ashley is safe, I just stopped our friend Phillip from assaulting her again, but I just got a call. The Machine gave us her number again.”

The Machine’s behavior had been getting more and more sporadic since Stanton had accessed the mainframe, but repeating numbers was new.

“I’m not sure the repetition is a symptom of the virus,” Finch said, ‘While that may be the case, it’s possible the Machine detected a new threat, and Miss O’Connell is still in danger.”

“You think Adams would be dumb enough to come after Ashley again?”

“Or the threat is coming from somewhere else. I’ll talk to Mr. Fields in the morning. If Miss O’Connell is still in danger, we can’t rule him out as a suspect.”

“I’ll go after Ashley, make sure she gets home safe.”

Ashley hadn’t made it very far from the alley where she’d left Reese. He called her name as he jogged to catch up. She turned, looking a bit surprised.

“John,” she greeted, "I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

He smiled and shrugged. “I should have said it sooner. Let me take you home.”

Ashley flushed. “Oh, that’s okay,” she protested, “I’ll just catch a cab.”

“I insist. It’s late, I shouldn’t have let you get this far alone.”

Ashley chewed on her lip, considering the offer. Finally, she conceded. “All right, but if you misbehave, I’m getting out and I’m walking.”

He offered her his arm to escort her to his car. “I wouldn’t dare.”


	4. Entr'acte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of sexual harassment and making a pass at an underage girl. I'm sorry for my limited understanding of how the legal system works.

Reese watched over Ashley’s apartment building all night and followed her back to the coffeeshop the next morning, where she got her usual and continued apartment hunting.

Meanwhile, Finch adopted one of his aliases to go pay a visit to Martin Fields. The director was in his office at the theatre, flipping through the show’s script. Finch knocked on the window in the open door. “Mr. Fields?”

Martin looked up. “That’s me.”

Finch stepped forward and switched his briefcase from his right hand to his left, offering his right for a handshake. “Harold Swan, attorney at law. I’m here to pursue the renewal of a case involving you and my client, Cole Sheldon.”

Martin’s face curled into what Finch could only describe as disgust. “What does that scumbag want now?”

“My client is considering pressing charges concerning the assault case that occurred last year.”

“What?!”

“Injuries have surfaced that my client’s physician believes may have been caused by your attack.”

Martin slammed his pen on his desk and swore. "We agreed that those charges would stay buried.” When Finch didn’t say anything, Martin stood and pointed at Finch with a threatening finger. “You tell that dirtbag if he wants to press charges against me, then I’ll call Lucy Parsons and drag his name through the _dirt_.”

“Lucy Parsons?” Finch echoed, curious.

Martin snarled. “Of course he didn’t tell you. The assault charges were dropped because I agreed to drop _my_ allegations against _him_.”

“What allegations?” Finch tilted his head. None of that was in the files he’d dug up on Fields or Sheldon.

“Sexual harassment. Sheldon was making passes at other actors, getting handsy backstage. I had a handful of accusations, but nothing I could make stick. Then, a week before we opened, he started hitting on our lead, Lucy Parsons. She was 15.”

“Heavens.”

“I lost it. Went after him after rehearsal. I beat the crap out of him and told him to stay away from her. When he came forward with the charges, I pulled him aside and made him a deal. Drop the charges, or I’d have him arrested as a sex offender.” Martin sighed. “A part of me wishes I’d taken the penalty so he’d be behind bars, too. But the show meant so much to me.”

“The show must go on.”

Martin nodded. “The charges were dropped, and the role was recast. Sheldon couldn’t afford such a public scandal, which is why I’m surprised he’s bringing it up now.”

Finch pursed his lips. “Perhaps,” he began, “If I remind him of Miss Parsons, I may be able to advise an agreement that would benefit both parties.”

Martin scoffed. “No offense, but you don’t sound like a very good lawyer.”

Finch smiled. “I haven’t been at it very long.”

~

“So Fields isn’t the threat,” Reese concluded after Finch had recounted his conversation with the director.

“It would appear that way.”

“Then we don’t know who’s after Ashley.”

“Unfortunately, no. Fields was our last lead. He doesn’t mean Miss O’Connell any harm. In fact, he seems more protective of his cast than anything.”

“If she goes on stage, she’ll be in more danger than ever,” Reese pointed out, “I can’t protect her with an audience that large.” Reese set aside his coffee. “I have to warn her. Try to get her to stay away from the theatre.”

Finch's voice raised slightly. “I strongly advise against that, Mr. Reese.”

Reese squinted in confusion. “You think she’ll be safer away from me?”

“Hardly, but you should find a way around it. I doubt Miss O’Connell would be willing to step down. You won’t convince her.”

“I have to try,” Reese said, standing to approach Ashley’s booth. He stopped at the end of her table and greeted her. “Hello, Ashley.”

She looked up, started, but her face broke into a smile when she recognized him. “John! It’s good to see you again.”

He smiled back. “May I join you?”

“Of course.” She gestured at the opposite side of the booth, and he sat. “What brings you to the coffeehouse?”

“Actually, I was looking for you.” Ashley raised an eyebrow, and Reese leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You’re in danger, Ashley.”

She chuckled a little. “Oh, really?” she purred. When his expression didn’t change, her smile faltered. “You’re serious.” He blinked, but said nothing, confirming her suspicions. “What makes you so sure?”

“An anonymous source, the most reliable I have. Listen to me- if you value your life, don’t go to the theatre.”

Ashley couldn’t suppress her laughter. “I’m sorry. You want me to sacrifice the biggest role of my career based on some anonymous source?”

“You’ll be sacrificing more than that if you go.”

Ashley leaned forward to look him in the eyes. “I value this job as much as I value my life, maybe more. I know it sounds stupid. You’re not an actor, you wouldn’t understand. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re not a techie, either. But this role is my big break. It will put my name in the papers, and it pays better than being a day player.”

So that was where the money was coming from. Ashley would be renting a new apartment with her next paycheck. Reese didn’t know what a day player was, but judging by Ashley’s tone of voice, it wasn’t great.

Ashley was speaking again. “This is my first big, musical role. If I don’t go on, Stacy Campbell will, and Martin just might keep her on instead of me, because he can count on her.” Ashley started packing up her things. “Like it or not, John, I’m going on tonight.”

Reese stood at the same time she did, blocking her way to the door. “Look, normally I’d just drag you to a safehouse and babysit you until the threat was gone, but I don’t think my employer would approve."

Finch scoffed over Reese's earpiece. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"So I’m coming with you, like it or not.” When she glared at him, he added, “I can keep you safe, but I have to be nearby.”

Ashley sighed. “Fine. I’m going to the theatre to go over some changes to the script. Either make yourself useful, or get the hell out of my way."

As Reese followed Ashley out of the coffeeshop, he smirked and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

~

“Mama said you keep them shoes clean! You get mud on them spats and she’ll tan your hide and mine!”

Ashley was practicing a flashback scene from a time before her character was mute. Reese was sat by the edge of the stage, what Ashley called the apron. She seemed to find Reese’s lack of theatrical knowledge endearing, and she was happy to answer all of his questions. It was a refreshing change from Finch’s mild irritation.

“But Ma didn’t say nothing ‘bout my trousers!” Reese read from the script in his hands. Somehow, Ashley had talked him into standing in for Julia’s little brother for the moment.

“Brodie Montgomery Junior, you get those spats and trousers back here this instant!”

“Minute,” Reese corrected. Ashley stumbled, having been deep in character. “It’s ‘this minute,’ not ‘this instant.’”

Ashley sighed. “Right.” Immediately she was in character as Julia again. “Brodie Montgomery Junior, you get those spats and trousers back here this minute!”

“You try and make me an’ I’ll rip out your curls!”

Ashley growled. “Agh! You obnoxious little muskrat!”

Reese paused, studying the script. “Muskrat?”

Ashley giggled. “Yeah, it’s a bit like a beaver. Martin changed it from ‘weasel’ to make Julia’s upbringing a little clearer.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway, that’s the last of the changes.” Ashley joined Reese on the apron, dangling her legs over the edge of the stage.

“You know, you’re quite good,” he commented, “Not that I have much to compare it to.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious,” Ashley teased, “But thanks. You're not that bad yourself."

He shrugged. "A lot of what I do is acting. You were right, I'm not really a techie. But to get close to you to keep you safe, I had to play one believably."

"You ever consider doing theatre?" she asked. He turned his head slowly to look at her and merely raised an eyebrow. "I suppose the pay isn't as good."

He chuckled before adding, “I didn’t hear much of your singing, but the crowds will love it.”

Ashley blushed. “I hope so. Musicals used to be a weakness. My voice was untrained and wobbly. But Martin… He saw something in me that no one else had. He spent time helping me improve, making me into a star. At least, that’s what he hopes I’ll be.”

Reese studied her. “Just do what you do best,” he suggested, “The rest will follow.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, John. But next time, say ‘Break a leg.’ It’s the theatrical equivalent of good luck.”

“Then break a leg.”

Ashley laughed before looking out at the seats facing the stage, as if imagining the seats full of people cheering for her. Reese only hoped he could identify the threat soon so she would live to see them.


	5. Reprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon typical violence. Please don't judge my Escher-esque theatre building and blatant disregard to architecture.

Reese stayed with Ashley until “call,” or the time she was needed to start getting ready. After she’d vanished into hair and makeup again, Finch called Reese and asked him to come to the lobby.

They met by the bar, speaking to the countertop as the bartender fixed Finch’s drink. Reese had switched to his all black get-up, but Finch had primped himself for the occasion. He was wearing a new suit with a silky bow-tie and matching pocket square. On his hands, he wore a pair of white kid gloves, and tonight he was making use of a silver headed cane. When Reese got close, he saw the head was carved into the shape of a crow.

“You look nice,” Reese commented.

Finch looked around at the other guests milling around the lobby and sniffed. “Custom used to dictate that one dressed up to go to the theatre,” he said dolefully, “It’s an art, and art used to warrant respect. But half the men here aren’t even wearing ties, and I think I saw a young man wearing _blue jeans_.” He referred to the offending article of clothing with an air of disgust.

Reese suppressed a chuckle. “Are you sure you won’t stick out like a sore, well-dressed thumb?”

Finch scoffed. “Hardly. Tonight, I am Lord Westley Haversham, a duke from Northamptonshire. I’ll be watching from the box seat.”

“What box?”

There was that mildly irritated sigh again. “Box seat. They’re situated above the rest of the audience. When this theatre was built, the purpose was to allow the wealthy to be seen by the general public. Now, it serves as an excellent vantage point from with to watch the production.”

“And to catch any incoming threats,” Reese observed.

“Precisely.” The bartender placed Finch’s drink on the counter, and Finch adjusted his kid gloves before taking it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appearance to upkeep. If I tarry too much longer people will begin to think I associate with the help.”

Finch was gone before Reese could protest being referred to as “the help.” But he didn’t have any more time to feel insulted. A quick glance at his watch told him he hand minutes to get backstage and into place.

He found Ashley hovering by the prop table backstage when he returned. Reese was proud of himself for remembering what it was called until he realized that Finch wouldn’t care. Ashley was in full costume, a period dress with a tattered hem, no shoes, and a ratty looking shawl tied with a ribbon. “Hey,” he greeted.

Ashley actually jumped at the sound of his voice. “Shhh!” she hurried to silence him. “Quiet backstage! If Fields hears you, he’ll have both our heads!”

Reese smirked. “Already in character, I see,” he whispered. She didn’t laugh, or even smile, and he tilted his head. She was biting her thumb and tapping her bare foot. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Reese stepped closer and lowered his voice further. “If you’re nervous about what I said, I’m right here, I’ll protect you.”

Ashley shot daggers at him with her eyes. “Oh, thanks a lot. I’d practically forgotten about that.”

Reese blinked, confused. “Well, if it isn’t… wasn’t that, why are you so jumpy?”

“Stage fright, okay?” she snapped, rolling her eyes, “It’s called stage fright, it’s when you get nervous before a show.”

Reese had heard the term, but he still didn’t understand. “You’ve rehearsed all this, I saw you back there. You know this show back to front.”

“But we’ve never performed with an audience before. There’s no more room for error. No ‘cut’ or ‘take 2’ like in the movies.”

The lights dimmed, and the theatre fell silent. Ashley let out a shaky breath and turned towards her entrance. In the shadows, Reese could see her hand trembling. Silently, he stepped up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Breathe,” he said, “and do what you do best.”

With a sigh, Ashley nodded. The curtain rose, the lights came up, and the music started. Plastering a smile on her face, Ashley bounded out on stage to join the others milling about, pretending to haggle with a vendor or beg a passerby for food.

As Carl Weathers belted the show’s opening number, “Morning Comes to Brooklyn,” Reese vanished into the shadows. It was hard to see in the half light, but he managed to keep track of all the other stagehands running between the fly system, the prop table, and the dressing rooms. Finch had given him a dossier on the backstage crew. Reese had raised an eyebrow at the size of it- he never realized how many people it took to put on a musical production- but he committed it to memory anyway.

At intermission, Finch checked in. “Well, aside from the incredibly rude woman who’s asleep in row 42, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary.” Reese heard Finch’s bitterness at the woman’s disrespect over his earpiece. Even Reese felt a twinge of irritation. Ashley deserved better. “On the other hand, this show has been marvelously entertaining so far.”

Reese was about to agree when he was distracted by a stagehand slipping out the exit door into the hall. All the other techies were busy with changing scenery and moving furniture, but this one was carrying nothing. He glanced over his shoulder, and Reese’s blood ran cold when he realized that the man had not been in the dossier.

“Something off, we’ve got a rogue techie headed away from the stage.”

“Pardon?”

Reese ducked into the hall and barely saw a flash of black disappearing around the corner to his left. “I’m following a man in black that isn’t on the crew. I don’t know where he’s going.”

“There’s another imposter behind the scenes?”

“Looks that way.” Reese went through another door, but the imposter was nowhere to be seen. There were several doors and an elevator. Reese didn’t have time to search them all. “I lost him.”

“In that case, you’d better get back. The lights have dimmed, which means Miss O’Connell will be on again soon. I’ll keep my eyes peeled, but he he’s dressed as a stagehand, his plan must involve blending in backstage.”

Reese only barely made it back before the lights turned off again, earning him a dirty look from one of the actors. He shrugged apologetically before looking around for Ashley. He spotted her on the other side of the stage. He was about to duck out into the hall to run over and warn her, but almost as soon as he saw her, she was on stage doing the flashback scene.

Finch came through his earpiece. “Miss O’Connell is on stage, which I hope means you’ve intercepted the perpetrator.”

“He hasn’t reappeared yet,” Reese whispered.

“She couldn't be any more exposed. I suggest you find him quickly.”

Reese looked around for any sign of the perp. “I’m _trying_ ,” he hissed. The stagehand by the fly system shushed him, and Reese glared before something occurred to him. “Maybe the perp wasn’t trying to blend in with the crew,” Reese suggested, “Maybe he was trying to blend into the dark.”

“The catwalk,” Finch realized.

“Is there another access point?”

There was a pause as Finch presumably consulted a floor plan. “Looks like there’s a spiral staircase next to an old dumbwaiter behind the booth.”

Reese didn’t have time to ask what that meant. Without hesitating, he jumped onto the ladder to the catwalk and headed up. He heard the stagehand that shushed him exclaim something from below, but Reese was already halfway up. It didn’t take him long to reach the top.

He spotted the imposter in seconds, positioned above the stage, fiddling with something off the edge of the platform. When he snuck closer, he saw it was a light fixture- a parcan. Reese put the pieces together. The man was going to drop the light on Ashley.

In the blink of an eye, Reese hurled himself at the man and tackled him to the platform. They landed with a dull clang, which was muffled by the orchestra playing a measure of music. Down below, Ashley was delivering her lines.

“Mama said you keep them shoes clean! You get mud on them spats, she’ll tan your hide and mine!”

The stumbled to their feet. The man threw a few punches. One of them landed, but Reese shook it off easily.

“But Ma didn’t say nothing ‘bout my trousers!” Brodie teased. The audience laughed.

Reese hit the man in the face. The man staggered back towards the light fixture. 

“Brodie Montgomery Junior, you get those spats and trousers back here this minute!”

The man picked something up off the catwalk. It looked like a cable with a carabiner at the end. He whipped it around threateningly.

“You try an’ make me an’ I’ll rip out your curls!”

Reese watched the cable spinning for a few seconds before landing a well-timed kick to the man’s stomach. The man doubled over in pain.

“Agh! You obnoxious little muskrat!”

Reese lunged and wrenched the cable from the man’s hands before wrapping it around his throat. The music swelled as Ashley chased the actor playing Brodie around the stage and over furniture. In seconds, the man lost consciousness, and Reese propped him up against the railing. Panting, he whispered to Finch, “The threat has been neutralized."

Finch sighed with relief. “Well done, Mr. Reese. I suggest you call Detective Fusco to bring him in. Any idea what he wanted with Miss O’Connell?”

“No, we didn’t get that far. He examined the unconscious, would-be killer. “I don’t recognize him. I’m not sure how he’s connected to Ashley.”

“Perhaps you’ll get some answers when the show is over. For now, stay put. You weren’t exactly what I’d call subtle.”


	6. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter feat. our favorite homicide detective. Obligatory "Hello, Lionel."

Reese made his way down during the standing ovation for Julia’s song. When the fly system operator crossed his arms, Reese shrugged and said, “What happens on the catwalk stays on the catwalk.” The techie curled his lip, but said nothing. Reese slipped out the exit door to call Fusco.

The weary detective answered his phone with a moan. “This had better be good, Wonderboy.”

“Hello, Lionel.”

“What could possibly be so important it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“I have an attempted homicide at the Conway.”

“That old theatre building? What are you doing there?”

Reese rolled his eyes. “Catching a show. What do you think I’m doing?”

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m on my way, but you owe me dinner.”

“Stop by the drive-through on your way to the precinct,” Reese suggested before hanging up. “Now how do I get you down?” he wondered aloud, looking up. Finch had mentioned an old staircase, but Reese would be too exposed. But the dumbwaiter…

Reese didn’t have any trouble cramming the man into the car and lowering the dumbwaiter manually. He’d secured the man’s hands with the carabiner cable from the rigging. He’d have to return it eventually, but it worked for the time being.

Fusco met him by the loading bay. The detective gave him a quick once-over. "Nice costume," he said.

Reese turned slowly and glared before dumping the man onto the ground. The fall roused him, and he sat up, swearing.

Reese put a boot on his shoulder and pushed him back down. “Easy, tiger. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way- you tell my partner and I everything you know and you go to prison for a very long time. The hard way- you don’t tell me, I dislocate your shoulder, and you go to prison for a very long time. Up to you.”

The man looked at Reese’s boot strategically placed over his shoulder joint. “You can’t hurt me,” he said with a grin, “That violates my constitutional rights.”

Reese exchanged a glance with Fusco and grinned. The man froze. “I’m not a cop,” Reese replied, before applying pressure. The result was a satisfying POP. The man screamed, and Reese stepped off him.

Fusco shot Reese a disconcerted glance. “Remind me not to get on your bad side,” he murmured, before turning his attention to his prisoner. “Maybe a pair of tight cuffs will loosen your lips.”

While Fusco escorted the man to the patrol car, Reese checked in with Finch. “I didn’t get anything out of our man, but Ashley is safe for the time being.”

“Good. I’m disappointed to hear you missed O’Connell’s performance.”

Reese straightened, mildly offended. “I’m glad that’s your primary concern.”

“I tracked the arrival of Detective Fusco on my phone. He has the perpetrator in custody, I presume?”

“Yes, but we still don’t know why he went after Ashley, or, if he was a hired hit, who paid him.”

“Stick around, Mr. Reese. Until the detective can interrogate our suspect and learn anything useful, she man still need your protection.”

“Copy that.”


	7. Encore

The rest of the show went off without a hitch, and the cast earned a standing ovation. After the audience had left and the director had finished praising his cast. Ashley met Reese just outside the dressing room. He was leaned up against the wall texting Fusco. She was still wearing her make-up, but instead of looking clownish, it only served to emphasize her feminine features.

She greeted Reese with a smile. “Did you see? I got a standing ovation! I didn’t even know until Martin told me because he was in the audience and I was already getting changed but they loved it!”

Reese smiled back. “Congratulations.”

Ashley’s smile faded. “What’s wrong? Something is off with you.”

He straightened and starting walking her towards the exit. “You’re safe for now, but we still don’t know where the danger came from, or why.”

She sighed. “Right. The anonymous source.”

“But don’t worry, the current threat has been neutralized.”

“You sound like military,” she commented. When he tensed beside her, she raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat. “What do we do now?”

“For the time being, we’ll go back to your place.”

“Wow, right to the point, eh?” He glanced down at her, and she winked. He remained unamused, and she rolled her eyes. “Just trying to lighten the mood. I’m assuming you’ll be nearby?”

They reached the end of the hall. Reese stepped out first and held the door open for her. “I’ll be close by until I can-”

He was interrupted by a figure appearing at the end of the alley, and the sound of a gun being cocked. “That’s far enough,” a voice said. 

Instinctively, Reese pushed Claire behind him and reached for his own piece.

“Don’t even think about it!” the voice snapped, and the figure stepped forward into the light. It was none other than Phillip Adams.

Reese held his hands up. Still guarding Ashley. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you’re the one who paid for the hitman.”

Behind him, Ashley gasped softly. He hadn’t gotten to that part yet, but there was no point hiding it now.

Phillip sneered. “How’d you figure _that_ one out, genius?”

Reese shrugged. “I stopped you before, and now here you are again. Third time’s the charm, right?”

“Ooh, a smart ass. I’m going to enjoy shooting you.”

“Whatever you do,” Reese warned, “I won’t let you take Ashley.”

“Oh, I’m not going to take her,” Phillip replied, “I’m going to kill her.”

Ashley sobbed. “No, please!”

Reese wanted to reach back and comfort her, but he couldn’t risk Phillip getting trigger happy. “So what,” he began, “You can’t have her, so no one can?”

“That’s the general idea. Especially not you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. I don’t know who you think you are, but you don’t deserve her. No one else is good enough for Ashley!” He looked over Reese’s shoulder at the terrified actress. “We could have been legends, babydoll!”

Even through her tears, she managed to spit, “I’m not your babydoll! I would never be with someone as sick and twisted as you!”

Phillip’s face twisted into a scowl, and he brandished his gun. "That's why you're gonna die tonight!" Ashley sobbed again, and cowered behind Reese.

Reese stepped forward and asked, “What do you get from killing Ashley? You won’t have any more content for your fanblog if she’s dead.”

Phillip smiled again. “That’s the beauty of it. I’ll be the first to have tomorrow’s breaking news. ‘Tragic death of a rising star.’ It would be my big break. Just like this show was hers. Imagine my name next to hers on the front page.”

Reese smirked. “I can see it now- ‘Deranged reporter arrested for botched murder attempt.’”

Something inside Phillip seemed to snap. With a snarl, he lunged towards Reese to take his shot. It closed the distance between them just enough for Reese to grab Phillip’s write ad bend it backwards, forcing him to release the gun. It fell to the ground with a clatter and Reese tackled Phillip to the ground.

Ashley yelped as Reese and Phillip tussled. Adams managed to get an arm around Reese’s throat, but he broke the stranglehold with ease. They both staggered to their feet, and Reese assumed a defensive position. Phillip threw a couple of aimless punches before bringing a leg up to kick Reese in the stomach. Reese blocked the kick with an upward swing, and Phillip lost his balance, toppling backwards with a cry. Reese took the opportunity to pull out his gun, and he aimed it at Phillip’s head.

Phillip raised his hands and whimpered pathetically. “Please don’t kill me! I’m sorry, I just… please, I don’t want to die!”

Reese sneered back. “I’m not going to kill you,” he growled, “But I am going to enjoy shooting you.”

In one fluid motion, Reese blasted Phillip in the knee before bringing his arm up and cracking Phillip across the face with the gun, knocking him out cold.

He texted Fusco, telling him to come pick up Phillip before looking for his number. “Ashley!” he called out, jogging towards the alley’s end. He slowed when Ashley’s head popped out from around the corner, her hand curling around the brick wall. When she saw Phillip passed out on the ground, she stepped out and approached Reese.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “This feels a little familiar, doesn’t it?”

Reese couldn’t stop his lips from turning up a smidge at the corners. “A little, but this will be the last time. My friend at the precinct is coming to get Phillip. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Ashley smiled weakly. “Thank you.” She rubbed her arms to fend off the chill as the adrenaline wore off. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home now.”

Reese chuckled. “Of course.”

“This will be a lot easier when I get an apartment that’s close to work,” she said, taking his offered arm.

“And deprive me the pleasure of driving you home?” he joked.

She nudged him lightly. “I imagine now that you’ve stopped Phil, I won’t be seeing much more of you.” He looked at her sidelong. “I’ve got you figured out, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. You swoop in to save the day, and when ‘the threat is neutralized,’” she said in a goofy imitation of his deep, gravelly voice making air quotes with her free hand, “You fade back into the shadows like the Phantom of the Opera.”

“Who?”

Ashley giggled and shook her head. “Never mind. Just take me home.” Smiling to herself, she whispered, “That’s all I ask of you.”


	8. Epilogue

Finch was sitting on the steps to Ashley’s apartment building when they arrived, reading the paper by the light of a street lamp. Bear was obediently sitting at his feet. The front page headline read, “Cole Sheldon arrested for sexual harassment; Broadway loses favorite Phantom!”

Reese parked the car and stepped out to pen Ashley’s door for her. “Evening, Finch.” Glancing at the paper, he smirked. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

Finch closed the paper and stood, and Bear joined him. “Who said I had a hand in his arrest? The young woman he harassed came forward, along with several other victims.” He adjusted his glasses as he looked at Ashley, who was scratching Bear under his chin. “They may have been encouraged by an anonymous source.”

Ashley stood and smiled at his choice of words. “It’s you,” she said, “The man behind the scenes.”

Finch smiled back. “Miss O’Connell. It’s a pleasure- I’m a fan of your work.”

She blushed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to having fans.”

“I imagine you’ll have many more after your performance tonight. Speaking of which…” Finch tucked his paper under his arm and rummaged around in his coat before pulling out a program for the show. He held it out with a pen and asked, “May I have your autograph?”

Ashley blushed even harder and took the program and pen. “You flatter me, Mr. Finch.” After scribbling her name and a message on the program, she handed it back and added, “I can’t imagine that an autograph in any way repays what you’ve done for me.”

Finch held up a staying hand. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was valuable.”

“Nonsense. I’ll leave some comp tickets at the Conway box office. It’s the least I can do.”

Reese was once again in the dark, but he smiled politely and quietly thanked her. Smiling over her shoulder, she disappeared into the building.

Finch and Reese turned to the car. While Finch opened the door and Bear hopped in, Reese paused on the sidewalk. “It’s a shame," he commented.

“What is?”

“My first stage show in New York, I’ve got the best seat in the house, and I didn’t even see it.”

Finch smirked. “We can always go see it for free, at the courtesy of Miss O’Connell. But worry not. I intend to gentrify you. I’ve got tickets to Wicked.”

Reese squinted. “Why do I get the feeling there’s going to be more singing?”

To his dismay, Finch chuckled.

_finale_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write, because I majored in theatre in college. Yes I wanted to write a story where the Machine repeated a number because of one man's crazed obsession, but I also wanted to write about something that I love dearly and enjoy doing. When I'm not writing fanfiction or waiting tables (because I need a real job) I'm on stage or behind the scenes, and there's no place I'd rather be.   
> Thanks to my friends Molly and Sohini for encouraging me to keep writing and posting my work. All my love!


End file.
